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FOOD AND DRINK

Six sticky facts about Sweden’s Fat Tuesday

It's almost time for every glutton in Sweden's favourite moment of the year: Fettisdagen (Fat Tuesday), the day before the start of Lent. In anticipation, The Local rounds up six facts about the one Swedish celebration that's guaranteed to give you a sore stomach.

Six sticky facts about Sweden's Fat Tuesday
It's that time again. Photo: Anders Ahlgren/SvD/TT

1. Not a pancake in sight

Like Pancake Tuesday in the Commonwealth countries, Fettisdagen falls on the day immediately preceding Ash Wednesday each year, and involves the often excessive consumption of a particular sweet treat. Unlike in many of the Anglo nations however, pancakes aren’t the food of choice. Instead, the sweet treat of the day is the mighty semla. What’s that, I hear you cry?

2. The semla

Once described by The Local’s Paul O’Mahony as “the Keith Richards of the Swedish bun world” Sweden’s excess-inducing semla is a sweet bun combined with loads of whipped cream, almond paste, and an unhealthy dose of sugar. Oh, and did we mention that some people like to eat them dipped in warm milk?

Putting one of these things away is a battle, putting several away is a real struggle, but people still try.

Semlor. Creamy. Photo: Claudio Bresciani/Scanpix

3.  Where to get one

As with pretty much all holiday-related goods these days, the availability of semla is no longer limited to the period around Fettisdagen itself, and it seems like the first sighting of the year now takes place when the dust has barely settled on the previous edition.

Almost everywhere that sells food will stock a variation of the bun, but be warned: not all semlor are created equally. You’ll probably want to avoid the ones which have been sitting in the cabinet of the convenience store at your local train station for the last 10 years, for example.

Instead, go traditional and visit your nearest old-fashioned konditori. Chances are they’ve been making semlor for years and know how to do it right. The traditional bakeries are everywhere in Sweden, so just follow your eyes (and your nose) and look for windows filled with cakes. Ta-da!

If you aren’t in Sweden, make sure to check out our recipe for semlor here.

The kind of place you want to buy your semlor from. Photo: Leif R Jansson/TT

4. Creamy controversy

There are few things in Sweden more beloved than semlor, so attempting to tinker with the recipe is a controversial move. That hasn’t stopped some pastry chefs from having a go however, with once example being Markus Ekelund, who combined the bun with another Swedish classic, the marzipan-heavy princess cake (prinsesstårta).

The resulting monstrosity is the princess semla, which basically looks like a green semla with a decorative flower on top. Don’t be fooled though: opinions are strong, and feelings on the creation appear to be mixed.

The bun is less controversial than Ekelund’s previous deconstruction of the semla though, the semoothie, which as you may be able to guess, was a smoothie made out of the cakes. Other bizarre hybrids include a semla combined with a saffron-filled lussebulle.

The PrinsessSemla. Photo: Thimons Kinditori och Bageri

5. The name

Fettisdagen may be the most commonly used term for the pre-Lent feast, but there are a number of other Swedish names for the day. Semmeldagen, named after the creamy bun, is self-explanatory. Other, more old-fashioned names are fläsktisdag (pork Tuesday) and smörtisdag (butter Tuesday) which are also related to indulgence, and vittisdag (white Tuesday) which comes from the use of white flour while baking.

6. Trick or bun?

As a parting fact we’ll leave you with an older tradition once associated with Fettisdagen but long since forgotten, to the degree that our Swedish editor hadn’t even heard of it!

Once upon a time the day also involved dressing up in odd costumes as “Fettisdagsgubbar” (literally “Fat Tuesday old men“) then going begging for food in a sort of trick-or-treat like manner. Fettisdagen was the one day everyone had to say yes and dish out some food to the poor souls, apparently. 

The tradition has long been dead across most of Sweden, but still survives in Alfta, Hälsingland, where it is now carried out by cute kids in a sort of pre-Lent Halloween. 

To prove we’re not making it up, here’s a picture of a bunch of creepy looking Fettisdagsgubbar from the early 1900s. There’s a horror movie script begging to be written here. 

Fettisdagsgubbar. Not at all creepy. Photo: Wikimedia Commons

FOOD AND DRINK

OPINION: Are tips in Sweden becoming the norm?

Should you tip in Sweden? Habits are changing fast thanks to new technology and a hard-pressed restaurant trade, writes James Savage.

OPINION: Are tips in Sweden becoming the norm?

The Local’s guide to tipping in Sweden is clear: tip for good service if you want to, but don’t feel the pressure: where servers in the US, for instance, rely on tips to live, waiters in Sweden have collectively bargained salaries with long vacations and generous benefits. 

But there are signs that this is changing, and the change is being accelerated by card machines. Now, many machines offer three preset gratuity percentages, usually starting with five percent and going up to fifteen or twenty. Previously they just asked the customer to fill in the total amount they wanted to pay.

This subtle change to a user interface sends a not-so-subtle message to customers: that tipping is expected and that most people are probably doing it. The button for not tipping is either a large-lettered ‘No Tip’ or a more subtle ‘Fortsätt’ or ‘Continue’ (it turns out you can continue without selecting a tip amount, but it’s not immediately clear to the user). 

I’ll confess, when I was first presented with this I was mildly irked: I usually tip if I’ve had table service, but waiting staff are treated as professionals and paid properly, guaranteed by deals with unions; menu prices are correspondingly high. The tip was a genuine token of appreciation.

But when I tweeted something to this effect (a tweet that went strangely viral), the responses I got made me think. Many people pointed out that the restaurant trade in Sweden is under enormous pressure, with rising costs, the after-effects of Covid and difficulties recruiting. And as Sweden has become more cosmopolitain, adding ten percent to the bill comes naturally to many.

Boulebar, a restaurant and bar chain with branches around Sweden and Denmark, had a longstanding policy of not accepting tips at all, reasoning that they were outdated and put diners in an uncomfortable position. But in 2021 CEO Henrik Kruse decided to change tack:

“It was a purely financial decision. We were under pressure due to Covid, and we had to keep wages down, so bringing back tips was the solution,” he said, adding that he has a collective agreement and staff also get a union bargained salary, before tips.

Yet for Kruse the new machines, with their pre-set tipping percentages, take things too far:

“We don’t use it, because it makes it even clearer that you’re asking for money. The guest should feel free not to tip. It’s more important for us that the guest feels free to tell people they’re satisfied.”

But for those restaurants that have adopted the new interfaces, the effect has been dramatic. Card processing company Kassacentralen, which was one of the first to launch this feature in Sweden, told Svenska Dagbladet this week that the feature had led to tips for the average establishment doubling, with some places seeing them rise six-fold.

Even unions are relaxed about tipping these days, perhaps understanding that they’re a significant extra income for their members. Union representatives have often in the past spoken out against tipping, arguing that the practice is demeaning to staff and that tips were spread unevenly, with staff in cafés or fast food joints getting nothing at all. But when I called the Swedish Hotel and Restaurant Union (HRF), a spokesman said that the union had no view on the practice, and it was a matter for staff, business owners and customers to decide.

So is tipping now expected in Sweden? The old advice probably still stands; waiters are still not as reliant on tips as staff in many other countries, so a lavish tip is not necessary. But as Swedes start to tip more generously, you might stick out if you leave nothing at all.

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